


Γλυκυπικρον

by vogue91



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Introspection, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 07:05:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13002465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: Cho feels there's something wrong with her. All she needs is for someone to understand her completely, her sweet side as well as the bitter one.





	Γλυκυπικρον

**Author's Note:**

> I know the chocolate bit is a tad weird. Unfortunately, it was my prompt, and I tried to deal with it the best I could.  
> The title (Gliukiupikron) is originally from one of Sappho's fragments, and is greek for "bittersweet".

Entering a world that has born and grown without you in it, that has sunk its roots inside a person heart and mind, it’s all but easy.  
What was that attracted me? What drove me away in the end?  
Kisses, gazes, promises... and wanting to keep looking in the eyes that had last seen a flash of life inside Cedric’s.  
I had to admit that it began as a mere need not to be alone, that I wanted to end that solitude, to suffocate thoughts that constantly brought me toward death, pain.  
And, after all, Harry was more than ready to offer me an alternative to those afternoons spent doing nothing, gazing into an empty spot in front of me.  
I’ve always been curious about him. Hearing about the Boy Who Lived, of the great Harry Potter, I was kind of expecting a spoilt brat convinced he could rule us all.  
So I was pleasantly surprised with his elusive eyes, with his tender clumsiness.  
And this brought me closer to him. The fact that he was so different from the others, so humble, so brave...  
It’s been a slow walk, and for him I imagine also pretty curvy. His look when last year I told him I couldn’t go to the Yule Ball with him, weighed on me more that Harry could’ve imagined. I was torn, like my heart was broken in two halves. On one hand love, stability, the deepness of Cedric’s eyes... on the other, the unknown, but an unknown that day after day became clearer to me, more feasible.  
And destiny, in the end, decided for me. I’ve paid the price for my uncertainty with tears, bitter and endless, ending up with a hope and a corpse.  
He was too young to die, and I’m too young to cry his death.  
I thought Harry could dry all my tears up, that he could give me new smiles, things I’d never felt before.  
And yet one afternoon, inside the Room of Requirement, I realized it was the opposite, that it was me that was giving him new smiles.  
It was a Muggle candy, chocolate and coffee. He gave it to me almost distracted, whilst his eyes were fixed on the floor, so that I couldn’t see the blush on his cheeks.  
I took it, trying not to laugh at his expression, and I tasted it.  
That little, meaningless sweet had inside it the same taste I figured my soul had at that time.  
A sweetness dormant but strong, like the dark chocolate I felt melting slowly in my mouth, diluted in a heart made bitter by the coffee.  
It was me, little and defenceless, bound to invisible chains that were now melting, just like the chocolate.  
It was a whole new freedom, a freedom that tasted like me, that tasted like the candy.  
It was sweet, at first. But the bitterness wasn’t far behind.  
I think this is sort of a cruel and sly quality of mine.  
Everything I touch is destined to wither in time, like a spring flower touched by the last efforts of a freezing snow.  
Keeping a sentiment alive takes patience and will to fight. And not Harry nor I had enough of that. We were lost in things bigger than us, lost in battles against invisible enemies, lost in the past, and in the variable of the future.  
I wasn’t stable. I saw his eyes running through features that weren’t mine, and I felt him growing distant. So I drove him even more away, pretending to be the strong one.  
There was no room for both our natures, it was a relationship too small to contain his friends, his ideals and my fears.  
I’ve looked for excuses, I've tried to have him break promises never made, unable to admit that maybe what we had dreamt of had ended up being ephemeral, destined to dissolve under the first touch.  
And when I lost him, surrounded in this drama I’m the only one writing, I tried to make him aware, to let him see he was missing out on something, tried to convince him to annul himself in order to chase after me.  
I’ve used the subtle weapon of jealousy, and I’ve got just indifference in return.  
He went from idolatry to ignoring me. And every woman feels unimaginable pain when her face is looked through with distant, cold eyes.  
And now I’m alone, lost in my thoughts, in resentment, in ‘ifs...’.  
In a free fall without a ground to stand on, nothing to hold myself to, knowing that I’m the only guilty part in this. I, who keep building fairy tales that don’t take long to become horror stories, I, who live with a veil covering my eyes, trying to see in people what will never exist in them.  
All I can do is surrender, once again. I, trustworthy servant of those defeats my heart keeps throwing at me. But every story has its end, the same illusion, and the pity lies in wanting to believe special something that was just normal. Because illusions are what sustains me, they’re what erases nightmares from my mind, save for bringing them back when the illusion breaks, like a crystal ball on which I try in vain to trace the outline of my future.  
Nothing’s special. The eyes of who looks make a person special, they turn every unrefined feeling into pure love.  
An unstable love, made in atoms, with their bonds ready to melt.  
Melt, like that chocolate. Melt, like our story.  
Like an endless circle, Harry has had his end in my life too. And I’m here, waiting for someone to pick me up, to love me with my sweet side and with the bitter one, which is now part of every fibre of my being.  
I wander with my mind to the next fairytale, to the next dream to ruin.  
Love shook my heart. Love, devious and sharp, like memory.  
Love, redundant when it begins, irrevocable when it comes to an end.


End file.
